by B. J. Carter
Coastal Journal staff

I’ll go on record now and say that Think Tank, Blur’s swansong, is certainly the best album they ever produced (yes, better than even Parklife), and at the end of this decade should be remembered as a substantial artistic achievement in popular music. 

Without overstating it, Think Tank’s first triumph is its completion.  The departure of founding guitarist and Britpop icon Graham Coxon during the sessions in Morocco could have and probably should have crippled the band.  At the very least, you would expect an album comprised primarily of break-up songs, sung bitterly by Damon Albarn, about Coxon.  It should be half-done and tossed-off, the sound of Blur falling apart.

It is the sound of something falling apart, but not necessarily the band.  Instead, we get a terrifying globe-trotting party, and a loose concept album way ahead of its time.  In the context of contemporary electro-punk/rock, it’s only gotten better with age.

Beginning with the nervous dread of Dave Rowntree’s percussion and Alex James’ nauseous bass line, the ominously titled “Ambulance” starts the party in compellingly dour fashion.  “I ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of,” Albarn sings, and the song proceeds to disintegrate beautifully with searing, spaced-out keyboards and effects that ring out like sirens.  Right around the 1:50 mark, the keyboards dissolve and pop genius surfaces with the band offering “bah bah bah bah bah-bah-bah”s, in spite of all the chaos.  It’s like their shuffling through zombie ridden streets with their heads down, singing to themselves in a desperate attempt to forget where they are.  Welcome to the 21st century.

And then “Crazy Beat” springs up like a mutant from a manhole.  It’s punk, it’s dance-hall, it’s diabolical.  Coxon may have left the group, but someone (presumably Albarn) is going to town on the guitar like it’s the last line of defense.  Rowntree’s snare is blown up in the mix, lending credibility to Alex James’s claim that Think Tank “has hips”.  When he’s not sneering, “Yeah yeah yeah yeah!” Albarn realizes, “I love my sister, and I love her tonight!”

Blur had always demonstrated a willingness to experiment, starting with the grungier, low-fi Blur after stylistically cornering themselves with The Great Escape.  Think Tank is even more experimental than Blur, but it also contains flourishes of vintage Blur.  “Good Song,” a gorgeous easy-listening ballad in the style of the Commodores, could have appeared on Blur or 13, which makes Coxon’s departure even less sad.  I’m not hating on the man - his guitar not only gave Blur its signature sound during the 90s, but he also demonstrated technical ingenuity and a willingess to experiment on the later records, especially 13.  Even Noel Gallagher, who has wished terrible, terrible things on members of Blur in the past, has openly conceded Coxon’s genius.  But when the results are this strong, thanks to the increased creative input from James and Rowntree, how could he really be missed?

Where most albums sag considerably in the middle, Think Tank keeps swaggering along with the funky “Brothers and Sisters,” the Bollywood punk explosion of “We’ve Got a File on You,” and “Moroccan Peoples Revolutionary Bowls Club,” the song most heavily influenced by African rhythms on the album.  The song moves into political territory with the refrain, “If we go and blow it up then we will disappear,” like he’s already seen the War on Terror played out.  But this isn’t your hum-drum commentary.  Whereas most political songs are gruesomely broad, preachy, and hypocritical, Albarn dares to incriminate himself and ponder the toll of violence not just on its victims but its perpetrators  As a bonus, he seems to know his place as a mere pop singer, preaching only as long as his side stitch keeps him from dancing.

The album ends with “Battery in Your Leg,” and it’s a perfect ending for many reasons.  Firstly, it features Coxon’s only contribution - a mournful guitar line that accompanies Albarn’s emotionally wrecked vocals.  It addresses the Coxon situation for the first time on the album:  “You know we’re not alone/You can be with me” and “tears are better for the good times.”  As the final song of the final Blur album, it’s only fitting that the band ends where it began - with Albarn and Coxon.

It’s also the perfect bookend for a more challenging reason.  Like “Ambulance,” “Battery in Your Leg” falls apart in a beautiful wash of distorted feedback, reminding us how de-centered the songs that come before it are, despite their allure.  Which brings us back to Coxon and the album’s final triumph as a personal, political document:  Coxon’s departure had a profound effect on the Blur universe, so much so that, despite friendly lunches together since, they don’t seem likely to record again.  With initial recordings beginning in November 2001, theirs was not the only universe de-centered that year.  A fact they seemed to be aware of.